It hurts, all of it, but the last blow is the one that ends a person. The trap is cruel: you may not even notice it until it’s too late. Attacks pile up, relentless and unyielding. They shift in intensity but rarely in direction. Living becomes a test of endurance, a struggle to shield yourself if you can, or to endure when the world allows no more. Hiding does not erase the pain; it merely masks the marks. Scars accumulate, each morning more stubborn than the last. Life is motion; stillness is fatal. One must keep moving forward, even when the path seems blocked. Hercules, strong as legend, searches for a straight line that stays out of reach.
From June 19, 2010, a walk in circles began, feet dragging, a person stuck in the same place while failing to spark a comeback. Over twelve years, the reasons for the collapse and the people blamed for fueling it have shifted, yet the cycle remains. A perpetual present centers on the star that promises a return, with circumstances and a cast of figures playing primary and secondary roles in an ongoing drama.
IRUN, SO CLOSE AND SO FAR
The train toward the peak Hercules once chased but could not board
Today marks twelve years since Hercules earned promotion to the First Division, an achievement that raised expectations of a solid, self-sufficient club. It looked like the foundations could be strengthened, a living organism could grow and sustain itself beyond the need for a single guiding figure. Other clubs managed this transition—Real Sociedad, Villarreal, Levante—but Hercules did not. The chance was missed.
From that haze, mud and doubt seeped into the foundation. The structure needed swift resilience to withstand every new storm, a reminder of the cost of ambition and the temptation to retreat. The market drifted toward selling or renting space that could once have supported a stable home.
The professional train passed by, and the blue-and-white team failed to climb aboard. If somehow it did, it would be a seat not paid for, and fate would push it toward the wrong carriage. The result was a fall onto uncertain ground, an existence dependent on borrowed breath and continuous oxygen.
Hercules aging alongside its loyal followers, inside and out, reflects a stack of frustrations and accusations. Political maneuvers, whispered scandals, and the relentless pressure only deepen the illness of a club many claim to adore. The difficult truth remains: the effort to heal does not always translate into recovery. Year after year, the expression on the club’s face seems to harden, not soften.
CYCLE DATE
Episodes that follow one another with almost uncanny repetition
Tracing Hercules over three decades reveals a club long burdened by ailments. The first wounds are the most troubling, yet the depth of intimacy makes them hard to see. A new chapter began when Enrique Ortiz arrived at Rico Pérez as a consequence of the collapse of a previous manager. It is essential to assess how much wealth from the Ortiz family has flowed through the club’s veins. Denying a heavy sum would be misguided; the numbers surface every summer, marking what remains from ongoing investment. Ownership and space, tied to property, continue to await a judicial decision.
ACTIVITY IS BACK
Every effort, even the grandest, seems to fall on deaf ears
All decisions at the club have centered on Enrique Ortiz, linking the momentum of every project to the emotions of a businessman who bears the blows with a stoic face but a fraying spirit. The sense of unfairness gnaws at him, and courage begins to erode under the steady wear of moral strain. The institutional crisis does not ease until the leader finds renewed purpose. For those weary of winning, it is easy to imagine the consequences of losing: Hercules loses not just matches but a circle of people whose ties vary in nature and distance.
Those who love Hercules—its fans, partners, staff, and owners—know where they want to go. They see a shared destination and the urgency of reaching it. There is no subtlety in the plan, only a need to advance. Yet progress feels circular, and the team must change its approach. Figures like Paquito, Sergio Fernández, Quique Hernández, Barroso, Portillo, and Del Pozo once watched, hopeful for a breakthrough that would unlock momentum and open the taps.
The field of uncertainty widens as projects repeatedly fall short. Paco Pena celebrated the team’s last big victory at the Welsh Stadium in Irun, but now the name carries a heavier burden. Nothing is certain in this challenge—yet nothing is impossible either, if the right move is made.
Who monetizes the effort with real resources? The answer is a common thread in these seasons of struggle. Pedro Rojas
Carmelo’s clear conscience
Pedro Rojas